The Exciting Life (18 page)

‘
Rubbish. He’s a villain’s son from Kilburn.’

‘
Yes but he’s been to public school and he’s far more
intelligent than me. Leo doesn’t know anything remotely
intellectual. He doesn’t give a toss about who wrote War and Peace.
All he cares about is smoking, taking drugs, drinking and bedding
women. If I stayed with him I’d just bum around doing
nothing.’

‘
Well I have a proposition for you, which will mean you being
nice to one of those men of yours.’

‘
What’s that?’

‘
Well you can’t stand that bitch Annie can you?’

‘
You know I can’t.’

‘
Well how would you like to go into competition against
her?’

‘
I can’t design shoes.’

‘
No but I can design clothes. I want you to go into business
with me.’

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
It’s crippling me Iris, working day in day out in that little
factory in Margaret Street. Since the fashion show, a day don’t go
by I don’t get some commission. I need proper premises. A factory.
A showroom. All the things that little witch Annie’s
got.’

‘
And you want me to pay for it?’

‘
I can put up half. I want you to put up the other half. All I
want is five hundred pounds. Just think, you’ll be part owner of a
fashion company.’

‘
It sounds a great prospect, but I can’t just go and ask
Patrick or Leo for cash. Five hundred pounds is a lot of money, and
besides, it makes me look like a tart.’

‘
No it doesn’t. Patrick’s supposed to be your boyfriend. Surely
he wants you to be happy. And Leo’s richer than Midas.’

‘
I know. But if I ask him, I’ll just feel like a tart. I have
sex with him then ask to borrow money. What would it look like to
you?’

‘
Well ask Patrick then. Go on Iris.’

‘
I don’t know. I don’t think I’d be much of a business
partner.’ She looked down and rubbed her hand over her flat
stomach.

‘
No!’ gasped Ralf. ‘Surely not?’

‘
I don’t know. I keep feeling sick and dizzy.’

‘
It’s probably something you ate or took while you were on
holiday. You’ve been careful haven’t you?’

‘
Not really. I had an abortion years go, I didn’t think I could
get pregnant again.’

‘
If you are, who’s the father?’

‘
Your guess is as good as mine love.’

Iris
pondered on Ralf’s proposition for the rest of the day. She
remained alone in the flat – Patrick didn’t call her or come round,
and when she rang Leo’s home there was no-one in. She knew she
could have got dressed up and gone to Bruno’s, and Patrick wouldn’t
turn her away. But she needed to think hard about her two
predicaments. The thought of going into business with Ralf was
wonderful. How nice it would be to stop working for Annie, and even
better to become the co-owner of a fashion house. But she felt bad
about asking Patrick for money. She’d spent so many years feeling
like a cheap tart and relying on men for money. Then of course
there was her other problem. She guessed if she told Patrick she
was pregnant, he would want to marry her; but what would happen if
it came out looking like Leo? Patrick was auburn-haired and she was
a natural blonde. How would she convince him a black haired,
olive-skinned kid was his? On the other hand, she knew that Leo
would pay for her to go to the best ‘fertility’ clinic in Harley
Street for an abortion. It wouldn’t be some back-street affair like
the last one. This one would be done properly, with anaesthetic and
a comfortable bed, and nurses to look after her.

But Iris
wasn’t sure if she could go through it again. Even though she
hadn’t wanted the other baby, she’d still felt the most enormous
sense of loss afterwards and sometimes would lie awake at night
imagining what it would have been like to be a mother. She guessed
she’d be a lousy one like Norma. She was selfish through and
through, and like her mother, would find it difficult to make
sacrifices for a child. Deciding that she was going to put it to
the back of her mind for now, she did one last thing and went into
the kitchen and poured the rest of the bottle of gin into a tumbler
and drank it down in one go. She then went and had a very hot bath.
She told herself it was so she could relax after her journey from
France, but she knew deep down it was for other reasons.

That
night Iris tossed and turned, and when she did sleep, she dreamt
about her childhood. She dreamt she was locked in a room with Vince
– her mother’s boyfriend who’d raped her when she was eleven. She
couldn’t even see him; the room was dark and all she could hear was
his breathing, and she could smell his body odour. Norma only used
to hang around with him because he could get her things on the
Black Market. It certainly wasn’t for his looks. When Iris finally
awoke from the dream, she was shaking and frightened and all that
bitterness and resentment came rushing back to her. Annie and
Kenneth were the lucky ones. If they’d remained with Norma, no
doubt Annie would have ended up on the game too, and Kenneth would
probably be in prison now for something or the other.

Unable
to go back to sleep, Iris got out of bed and went into the kitchen,
making herself a cup of strong coffee, with a dash of whisky in it.
She sat on the sofa and pulled back the net curtain, looking down
at her shabby street. Right now Annie was probably tucked up in bed
with Eddie in her beautiful flat on Regent Street, and Kenneth was
no doubt at home in his house in Chiswick. Over in America, her
Aunt Alice was probably starring in some play, or attending some
fancy gala, and her cousins Max and Alana were both rich and
successful. And yet here she was – the poor relation. Well she
didn’t want that any more. She made up her mind that she was going
to go into business with Ralf. And she was going to ask Patrick for
the money. If he loved her, he’d do this one thing for
her.

It took
a lot of make-up to hide the dark circles under her eyes, but Iris
wanted to look her best when she went and saw Patrick the next day.
She took a chance on him being at Bruno’s, as he often went there
on a Sunday morning to go over the books. He wanted to make sure he
got a fair cut of the profits – not that Saint Annie was likely to
try and diddle him.

Dressed
in a white dress that showed off her tan, Iris made her way to
Soho. She splashed out on a cab, as she didn’t like the thought of
travelling on a rattling old bus, breathing in other people’s BO
and sitting on fag ends. She felt queasy enough as it was, she
didn’t want to throw up and get chucked off the 109!

She
arrived at Bruno’s to find the door wide open and a puddle of soapy
water in the area outside it. The cleaner was obviously in, but
that was no guarantee Patrick was as well.

Iris did
her best to step over the water and went into the club. That smell
of disinfectant, stale cigarette smoke and alcohol rushed up to
greet her, and it felt as though she’d never been away. She spotted
Patrick in a booth at the back, the ledgers spread out before him.
He looked up and spotted her, giving her that cheeky, wolfish smile
and her heart melted. She blushed, thinking about what she’d done
with Leo and she felt that self-loathing that had plagued her all
her life.

‘
Hello love,’ Patrick said. ‘This is a nice
surprise.’

‘
Hello,’ she replied, sitting before him. ‘How are
you?’

‘
I’m fine. What about you? Have you got a tan? I can’t see in
this light?’

‘
Yes, I’m all tanned. Although I don’t want you thinking I was
spending all my time sunning myself. I did do some
work.’

She
glanced up at the bar and saw the cleaner behind it, and for a
moment thought she was seeing things. She then looked away and
looked again and felt her blood run cold. Norma was behind the bar;
wearing an overall and cleaning glasses.

‘
What’s she doing here?’ she whispered to Patrick.

‘
Annie took her on,’ he replied quietly. ‘She did it while I
was in Scotland.’

‘
Well you’ve got to sack her.’

‘
I can’t do that,’ he laughed. ‘She’s a good cleaner. Just
ignore her.’

‘
You don’t understand. I don’t want her anywhere near
me.’

‘
What went on between the two of you when you worked
together?’

‘
She was a cleaner at the club where I worked and she was often
caught stealing.’

Patrick
glanced round and looked at Norma. Then turned back to
Iris.

‘
Really?’ he asked, and she could tell by the tone of his voice
that he believed her. ‘Well we’ll keep an eye on her.’ He smiled
and grasped Iris’s hands. ‘So anyway, tell me all about
France.’

‘
I don’t want to talk about it,’ she snapped. ‘Can’t we get out
of here? It’s so dingy.’

‘
I thought you liked it here.’

‘
I do. But after Cannes, it all looks so dark and
horrible.’

‘
Honestly!’ he laughed. ‘I can’t keep up with you. Alright.
Let’s go along to Dino’s. He’ll probably be open for
coffee.’

They got
up to leave and as Iris passed the bar, Norma stopped what she was
doing and smiled at her. But it wasn’t a loving, motherly smile;
there was nothing but spite in her eyes. Iris had never felt so
terrified in her life.

Dino’s
was on the corner of Wardour Street and Sheraton Street, and of an
evening it was populated by Teddy Boys and Maltese spivs. But
during the day it was quite respectable and the couple of customers
who were in there looked like showgirls from one of the more
respectable clubs in the area, having a break before starting the
evening shift. Iris and Patrick found a table, and Iris sat down
and lit herself a cigarette while Patrick went to the counter to
get them a coffee. Iris could hardly steady her shaking hands as
she smoked, trying to work out why her mother had got a job in the
bar. Why couldn't she just leave her alone?

Patrick
came back with two coffees and sat opposite her.

‘
What's on your mind?’ he asked her.

‘
Ralf came to see me last night. He wants me to go into
business with him.’

‘
What?’ he spluttered. ‘What do you know about designing
clothes?’

‘
I wear them,’ she snapped, hurt by his lack of faith in her.
‘Besides, what did your little girlfriend know about designing
shoes before she started?’

‘
She's not my girlfriend, don't be stupid. And Annie always
designed shoes. You're a model Iris, you've never designed anything
or run a business. What does he want you to do?’

‘
He wants premises of his own, and he wants me to help out. I
can help with booking the showroom models and so on.’

‘
Can't you do that without giving him money?’

‘
But if I invest I’ll get money back from the profits. I was
hoping you'd help me out.’

‘
No,’ he said with a resolute shake of the head. ‘It's
ridiculous Iris. I don't trust that Ralf and I think he’s ripping
you off.’

‘
I thought you loved me,’ she uttered, swallowing down her
tears. ‘If you loved me you'd want me to be happy.’

‘
And I do want you to be happy,’ he smiled, taking her hand and
bringing it to his lips. ‘I don't begrudge you the money. Do you
want me to buy you something? Do you want a car or a fur
coat?’

‘
I want to be somebody!’ she protested. ‘I want to be
successful and have money of my own. Is that too much to ask
for?’

‘
Why don't I see if I can get you another job? I know you don't
get on with Annie, so why don't I see if one of my friends has got
a manageress job going in one of his clubs?’

Iris was
so angry with Patrick that she couldn't bear to spend another
moment with him. She stood up, kicking her chair back roughly,
causing the two showgirls to lookup.

‘
You make me sick Patrick’ she said. ‘You treat me like shit
and I don't know why I’m with you.’

She
walked out of the cafe and practically ran to Oxford Street. She
walked along the deserted street, past the shops that were all shut
up; the silence only punctuated by the odd bus that rumbled past.
She looked for a cab, but nothing came, so she had no choice but
jump onto a 137, which took her to Sloane Square, and from there
she caught a taxi, which took her to World’s End, and Leo’s
flat.

She
received a surprise when he opened the door and she found him in
nothing but a pair of navy swimming trunks; a rather fat, marijuana
cigarette hanging between his lips. For a moment, she panicked,
wondering if he was entertaining another woman.

‘
Iris!’ he beamed, taking the joint out of his mouth and
kissing her on the cheek. ‘Come on in.’ He put his mouth close to
her ear. ‘Big brother’s here,’ he whispered.

‘
Kenneth?’

‘
Yes, we’re out in the garden. Come on.’

He took
her hand and pulled her out into the small patio garden at the back
of the house. She found two deckchairs had been put out there, and
sitting in one of them was Kenneth. He looked strangely debauched,
with his shirt undone and his pasty chest on show, a patch of red
sunburn across his collarbone. On seeing Iris, he looked a little
embarrassed and sat up, fastening his shirt.